


This Is Your Last Retreat

by annie_reckson



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Face-Fucking, Handcuffs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 15:00:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annie_reckson/pseuds/annie_reckson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has been a little shit and is handcuffed as a result, which is a punishment that really isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is Your Last Retreat

**Author's Note:**

> Smut, smut, seriously fucking smut. There is a soft spot in my heart for Sherstrade and it was only a matter of time before I indulged.

Sherlock moaned. This was absolutely inhumane, ridiculous, torturous even. He pulled his wrists against the metal bite of the handcuffs, even though he knew it wouldn’t do him any good. Sweat poured down his face and along his chest as he arched his back and gasped over and over.

Lestrade smiled down on him from his straddled position as he braced himself with a hand on Sherlock’s stomach that rubbed gently, mixing sweat and precum into a salty mixture. His knees were starting to hurt from rubbing against the sheets, but he continued his furious rocking motion anyway. And it doesn’t surprise him when a desperate Sherlock begins thrusting his hips up into him, coinciding with Lestrade’s downward motions.

“God, yes, Sherlock, keep doing that...”

When Lestrade looks down again, he notices how red and swollen Sherlock’s lips are and can’t resist lowering himself to press them against his own. He braces himself with one arm against the headboard and one on the mattress in order to keep moving at the riotous pace that had the man beneath him close to whimpering.

Finally, with a groan that seemed to travel all the way from his gut to his throat, Sherlock’s whole body started shaking and he thrust three more times up into Lestrade before his vision flashed and nothing existed but Lestrade’s lips pressed against him and Lestrade’s hips bearing down on him and Lestrade’s hand rubbing along his torso.

When he opened his eyes, Lestrade was gingerly moving off of his lap, wincing a bit when he pulled Sherlock’s cock out of him. Sherlock took a moment to glide his eyes over Lestrade’s body; how gorgeous it looked when his tanned skin pressed against Sherlock’s paleness, how soft he was starting to get in the middle, but how strong his arms and legs and thighs still were. He glanced down and noticed that Lestrade was still incredibly erect, his member throbbing a deep purple and bouncing a bit as he moved.

Sherlock deliberately made eye contact with Lestrade and licked his lips suggestively, “Please, Lestrade, Sir, let me. Let me, please.”

With a lascivious grin, Greg crawled towards him on the bed until his thighs were on either side of Sherlock’s damp curls. He ran his hands slowly up the pale arms still cuffed to the headboard before placing one hand firmly on the solid oak. With the other, he started solely stroking his cock inches from Sherlock’s eager mouth.

“Is this what you wanted?” He gasped out.

“Yes, yes, please, Sir,” His lips reached out in vain, “I want to taste you, Sir.” Purring out the last ‘r’

“God, you should be illegal,” Lestrade sighed before pushing the head of his cock into Sherlock’s waiting lips and tilting his hips forward.

At first, Sherlock pulled back a bit to just allow the very tip into his mouth, sucking and licking at it generously, before moving forward to take Lestrade almost all the way in. He used his tongue generously, flattening it and licking roughly up and down the sensitive skin, paying special attention to the frenulum before working his way back down to the shaft. Smiling, he looked up at Lestrade, catching his gaze before hollowing his cheeks and pulling slowly back up, humming the entire way. He felt the Lestrade start to stutter and jerk his hips forward, at first erratically, but eventually settling into a rhythm as he furiously fucked Sherlock’s mouth.

Tears were starting to form in Sherlock’s eyes, but he continued his focus on moaning around Lestrade’s cock and using his tongue when he could. He knew it was coming even before the Detective Inspector cried out and greedily swallowed everything he could, pressing his lips around the base of his cock so Lestrade couldn’t pull out before he was done.

When he finally let him go, cock releasing with a “pop” that shouldn’t have been arousing as it was, Lestrade exhaled loudly and flopped bonelessly beside him. Sherlock licked around his lips as Lestrade lazily ran his hand up and down Sherlock’s thigh.

“So...” Sherlock started, “You were planning on releasing me sometime soon, correct?” He gestured with his eyes towards his cuffed hands.

“I don’t know, I rather like you like this.”

“Lestrade.”

Lestrade rolled onto his elbows and leaned close to Sherlock’s face, “What’s my name, Sherlock.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and moved his lips as close to Lestrade’s ear as possible, “I believe it might be...Greg.” He drew out the name as long as he could, while making his voice as deep as possible.

“Mmm...and what happens when you pretend to forget it?”

He moved his wrists around in the cuffs, “I’m assuming, this?”

Greg finally produced the key and unlocked them, “You catch on quick. Must be a genius or something.”

Sherlock sat up and rubbed his wrists, “You do know this isn’t much of a deterrent, right?”

Greg winked at him before pressing a gentle kiss on his lips, “Let’s hope not.”


End file.
